


The Boy and a Lopsided Moon

by porridgemilk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Relationship Therapist Bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porridgemilk/pseuds/porridgemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo learns, one day, that there is a thing known as relationship therapists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy and a Lopsided Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [risquetendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/gifts).



> hiyo, dear risquetendencies!  
> this is the thing i wrote for your bokuroo prompt and i hope you'll like it! I won't bore you with the details of my writing process for this fic but I can tell you that it was definitely a ride working on it ^o^ i did get a bit carried away on the way and it turned out longer than i had anticipated but i hope you enjoyed reading it! I'm sorry if I wasn't able to follow through and/or write this the way you wanted it (it's my first time taking part in something like this) but i hope you liked it nevertheless.  
> Somehow, i feel like i've come to appreciate this pairing a lot more than i did initially and i'm really glad i got to write this! I'd love to talk about bokuroo with you, some day! :')  
> Have fun reading some bokuroos~

One hot summer’s night Kuroo sits on the rooftop of his apartment, a poor, dilapidated little thing. The can of beer in his hands is already thick with precipitation and the rolled up magazine in his other hand is almost useless. The mosquitoes have already left their mark on his skin, on his forehead of all places, and he stifles the urge to scratch himself every few seconds. Above him, the night sky is a murky blue black, deep as ink and somehow painful to look at. He can’t see the stars and Kuroo wonders if it means something when he feels a brief pang at the sight. He doesn’t think of anyone when he looks up and he should be relieved. Things do get easier, after all.

The phone in his pocket vibrates and for a brief span he contemplates not picking it up at all but then the buzzing gets all too annoying and he sighs, balances the can on the railing and prays it doesn’t fall down—the neighbors won’t be too happy to find spilt beer in front of their house. When he takes out the phone he already knows it’s Kenma, but the sense of mystery is always appealing for the few seconds the screen takes to blink up at him. He squints once, presses on the button and lifts it to his ear.

“Hello?” he says, an innocent enough greeting. He can’t be sure what the call will be about, especially when Kenma calls at this hour of the night. Shouldn’t he be sleeping by now?

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping by now?” Kenma asks and Kuroo smirks just once, takes the can back into his free hand and sips lightly.

“I was going to ask you that,” he says “I don’t need to be sleeping right now but you do.”

“Just because you have a day off doesn’t mean you should spend it staying up, Kuroo,” Kenma says, voice sounding disinterested as always. Kuroo knows him enough to tell that the little sigh at the end of his words means he’s worried. “Are you drinking?”

“It isn’t alcoholic, don’t worry.” He laughs, “Just cool enough to make me forget about the mosquitoes biting me.”

“You can borrow my spray tomorrow,” Kenma is sighing again and the sound makes Kuroo feel a little guilty. He guzzles down the last of his drink and tosses it to the side right next to the pile of other bottles and cans in the corner. He really should get rid of the waste but an odd sense of sentimentality compels him to let it stay. “At least try to sleep right now.”

“Alright. I’m done drinking anyway so I’ll do that,” he says, voice soft so that Kenma knows he’ll at least try. “No need to worry about me so much.”

There’s a huff and Kuroo thinks that’s that for the time being but then there’s a small amount of static—as if Kenma is breathing too loud, thinking and hesitating—and then he hears his voice again.

“You know, Kuroo,” there’s an odd lilt to Kenma’s voice, almost nervous “Why don’t you talk it out with someone?”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, amused. “I’ve talked it out with you more than enough, no?”

“You know what I mean,”

“Do I?”

“A professional, Kuroo,” Kenma’s sighing again and it’s clear to Kuroo that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep either if the tiredness of his voice is anything to go by. He thinks it’s partly his fault things are like this. “Talking about this with a professional is always good help.”

“This?”

“ _This_.”

“Don’t you think it’s a really weak reason to go to a professional for? I’m sure they’ll judge me.”

Kenma doesn’t seem to deign it fit to reply. Kuroo waits for an answer but when nothing comes, he laughs just the slightest and leans back against the railing, eyes raised to the sky. The few clouds that float by all seem sleepy, heavy with rain that definitely won’t fall in this part of the neighborhood.

“Alright alright, please don’t get angry, Kenma,” he says it playfully but it’s sincere nevertheless. He doesn’t want Kenma worrying excessively about him “It’s no big deal but I’ll go anyway. Probably.”

“Okay,” Kenma seems satisfied with that and the phone line does drop dead this time.

Kuroo closes his phone and shoves it back in his jeans, hand clammy from holding onto it for too long. There’s a sigh trapped somewhere between his chest and throat but it never makes its way out. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pocket, ignores the growing mountain of waste on his rooftop, and heads back to his room.

\---

Kuroo learns, one day, that there is a thing known as relationship therapists. A concept that is apparently one that he had been entirely unaware of until he’d skimmed through a copy of _The Tokyo Shimbun_.

He isn’t sure how he stumbles upon the advertisement, but the newspaper had been lying atop his table for at least a week before he actually decided to open and leaf through it. There had been nothing particularly interesting, and he’d skimmed through the list of print ads without really thinking much. House rentals and marriage bureaus looking for eligible bachelors—as if Japanese youth were still into that sort of thing now, _really_ —a few companies highlighting their new and improved formula for weight loss pills. Kuroo just about rolled his eyes at everything until his eyes stumbled upon an ad at the far right of the page, just at the bottom. A _relationship therapist_.

Kuroo blinked once, wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, and then blinked again. How come he’d never heard of such a thing? He hoped it was just a scam because the text seemed far too gaudy and far too obnoxious to actually seem legitimate. He supposed he could call Yaku and ask him if such a thing existed but he was sure that it would just end with him being made fun of. _Do you live under a rock, Kuroo?_ Yaku would have asked and Kuroo would have been forced to answer that _yes_ , perhaps he did live under a rock. The kind where newspapers gather into a pile before they are ever read and televisions are only turned on to watch that one soap opera the middle aged ladies in his neighborhood were all raving about.

So when Kuroo learns that relationship therapists are in fact a thing, the first thing he does is shove the newspaper as far away from his line of sight as it goes and promptly lies down to sleep. He doesn’t need to remember that he’d promised Kenma to go to a professional, and if he doesn’t remember then he’s not obligated to really follow through on it.

When he wakes up the next day, he curses himself for still remembering where the newspaper is and he curses himself even more when his fingers end up dialing the number written in small text at the bottom anyway.

\---

It’s raining the day of Kuroo’s appointment with the therapist and he almost considers bailing. He would have been infinitely thankful if even a single one of his friends had a car but as it was, all of them were just as broke as him and bus tickets were the most they could afford. By the time he actually managed to convince himself that going to the therapist was for the greater good and that getting changed was something he definitely should do, the rain had only gotten worse. He hadn’t thought that was possible but clearly, Kuroo’s sense of judgment had just been _horrible_ these days.

He’s waiting at the stop now and his shoes are soaked through, socks wet and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. The payphone booth to the right seems like the best option to hide his already wet body in but he decides to just wait it out since nothing could possibly get worse than this. He hopes he doesn’t regret it when the sky above him thunders once and then twice. It’s a warm day despite the rain and the splash of water on him isn’t nearly as alienating as he had thought it would be. There’s only one other person standing here with him and by the looks of him, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get out of the place.

When the bus finally rolls by, Kuroo thinks an eternity has already passed and he silently lets out a prayer of thanks that it comes on time. He isn’t even sure if he’s eager to meet the therapist or if it’s just the promise of a dry room and maybe a towel if he looks sorry enough. The bus is empty and the seats are mostly dry. Some of them shine with the faint traces of water and Kuroo guesses he isn’t the only one who’d been caught unprepared for the rain even with an umbrella. The bus starts moving and Kuroo closes his eyes, letting the faint scent of air freshener drift across him, thankful that at least for once, the bus doesn’t smell like sweat and grime.

He waits for three stops before getting off and taking out his umbrella again, almost relishing the peacefulness of having a road all to himself. No one is out at this time of the day, with the streets cast in a faint yellow glow from where the sun shines behind clouds. The rain is letting up now and the people are still hiding inside shops and under the shade of nearby stalls. Sugamo is a neighborhood that he’s been to only once before but the more he looks around, the more he feels as if he’s walked into a part of the city that could only ever appeal to old people. He’s not sure why the relationship therapist decided to set up shop right here but he shrugs and decides it’s not as bad as it could have been. At least it’s only a few streets away from where he got off the bus, a small little apartment packed snug in the middle of two dry fruit shops that are closed for the day. For a few, distressing seconds he thinks the clinic has closed down too but then he sees a blur of movement inside and a faint flicker of light. He sighs to himself and knocks, careful not to step over the pots housing little seedlings at the edge of the door.

A sleepy eyed young man opens the door and Kuroo raises his hand in greeting.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asks in a slow drawl and Kuroo quickly nods as the boy leads him inside.

The place isn’t much more spacious looking from the inside but he’s surprised to find it only dimly lit, fairy lights dangling from one end of a bookshelf to the top of the ceiling where it ends just at the back of a fan. Faint streams of light filter through from the blinds at the end of the reception and Kuroo frowns, unsure of where to go. He looks at the boy for guidance and is met with a dull look and then a point in the direction of a door at the end of the corridor. Kuroo nods and walks towards the door, suddenly all nerves and anxiety.

He knows, logically, that this is nothing but a simple meeting between client and therapist but he can already feel a judgmental stare being hurled in his direction and he’s not sure how he’ll feel once he’s actually sitting in front of a person, spilling to him his worries. If such things can even be called worries.

“Go on, Kuroo-san,” the boy calls out gently “Bokuto-san has been waiting.”

For a few seconds, Kuroo feels like he’s a teenager again, wild and young and boundless energy, arms slung around the shoulders of a boy who went by the name of _Bokuto_. Kuroo puts the thoughts aside and nods faintly, wondering if such a thing as coincidences is even possible in his life. He walks inside the room, not sure of what to expect.

The room is empty and Kuroo squints once before he spots the barest glimpse of a body behind the desk in the middle. The room isn’t large enough to house more than a leather couch and a desk and Kuroo tentatively makes his way to sit down, wondering what the therapist is doing.

He clears his throat. “Bokuto-kun?” he calls out hesitantly “Are you there?”

“Just a minute! I think I lost my pen somewhere around here,” comes a voice from under the desk and Kuroo can’t shake off the feeling of familiarity that comes with hearing his voice.

“Alright,” he says and settles down comfortably while the therapist shuffles around under the desk. When he peeks out from the corner, a flash of white hair is the first thing that greets him and Kuroo can’t even be bothered to act surprised because somehow he’d suspected it would come to this.

“Found it!” Bokuto exclaims and it’s the same voice he always had every time his hands landed on a perfectly executed spike.

_Found you._

Kuroo remains seated even when warmth blooms in his chest and his lips settle into a grin. Bokuto gets up and pats down his trousers before sitting down on the seat behind his desk. It’s only then that their eyes actually meet and Bokuto’s eyebrows raise into an owlish expression, lips halfway into forming an ‘O’.

“Is that you, Kuroo?” is the first thing Bokuto asks “How come your hair looks so _tame_?”

Kuroo shrugs and settles back into the couch, letting the overly soft cushioning pull him in until he feels it envelope him like quicksand. “Hair gel,” he says simply, as if this isn’t the first time they’re talking to each other in more than three years “Bed heads don’t look too good when you’re working an office job.”

Bokuto nods once and it’s such an adult gesture that Kuroo blinks. Suddenly, he’s all too aware of how long it’s been since he saw him, and how much they’ve changed since then. But then Bokuto’s grinning once again, legs bouncing off the seat and body running towards him, not giving Kuroo much time to react before he’s being pulled into a hug so tight that he feels his ribs screaming in protest. Kuroo takes a few seconds to regain his balance on the couch before he’s pulling him closer too, arms wrapping around his waist and a laugh spilling from his lips. He can’t remember the last time his heart felt so full to bursting just from a single hug and he smiles when they break away, grinning.

“Where have you been?” he asks Bokuto, taking in his appearance and how he still looks nearly the same. “You look old.” It’s a lie.

“You look handsome,” Bokuto’s grinning, hands on his face before he’s retracting them and settling down to the side, legs still touching Kuroo’s. Kuroo smiles at how easily Bokuto still compliments people. “But,” he’s frowning now “Last time I saw you, you looked—healthier?”

Kuroo frowns. “Did I? I think I look the same.”

“You’re here for a therapy session, though,” he muses “Something’s up, isn’t it?”

 Kuroo almost thinks about making up some excuse— _Haha! No way I just saw your name on the advertisement and thought about seeing if it really was you!_ —but then decides against it and shrugs, once again.

“Same old thing most of your clients come for, I bet,” he says vaguely, unable to meet his eye.

Bokuto’s quiet for a moment before he peers down at him, eyes focused on him and lips upturned in a pout. “Breakup? Or are you still together?”

“Breakup,” he says, the word sounding strange on his tongue.

“Do you guys still talk?”

“Nah”

“Were you _dumped_?” Bokuto asks and normally Kuroo would have been irritated at the rapid fire questioning but he knows that’s just Bokuto’s way of ascertaining facts before he thinks things through. It used to get on his nerves sometimes but now he’s just glad to hear him talk.

“No. We talked it out and it was a mutual sort of thing,” he says in clear, simple words. He doesn’t feel particularly sad when he says it and he supposes that’s the natural order of things. Drifting apart was a kind of heartbreak that didn’t seem to hold a light to the kind of messy breakups that he often heard about.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo,” he says softly “It must have sucked.”

“It’s fine, you know. No need to worry about it that much. It’s much better than an explosive fight at least.”

Bokuto smiles, “You never were the fighting type.”

Kuroo doesn’t tell him that sometimes he wished they would have fought instead. At least then, maybe they could have found out what went wrong instead of letting it all just go to waste. He doesn’t say any of that though and just sighs, the hint of a smile settling on his lips.

“Isn’t it great, though?” he says instead “I came here hoping to get treated and now I’ve met you again!”

“Two owls with one stone, eh?” Bokuto seems all too pleased at his own words and the way his eyes crinkle around the edges with laughter is new.

“Just one owl is fine,” he says, daring to put an arm around his shoulders just like he used to, back then. The gentle curve of muscle and skin under his hands is the same. Kuroo feels young and foolish “I’m just glad to see my old friend again.”

Bokuto leans forward and lightly smacks his arm, “Since when did you get so sentimental?”

\---

“You look panicked.” Kenma notes, turning once in Kuroo’s direction to acknowledge his presence. His hands don’t stop mashing the buttons of his controller and Kuroo lounges on the couch next to the cushions that Kenma is seated on, eyes intently focused on the battered TV screen so that he doesn’t have to look at his friend.

“I’m fine,” he says even though he knows he’s here to talk about it with Kenma anyway. And then, after a beat of silence that’s filled only with loud, 32-bit music, he says “I met Bokuto.”

“Bokuto?” Kenma’s voice carries a hint of surprise too and he’s glad he isn’t the only one. “From Fukurodani?”

“He was in college with me too, you know. He’s the therapist I was supposed to be seeing,” he says, laughing a little at the memory “Imagine my surprise. He didn’t seem like the type to end up with a job like that.”

Kenma looks at him once, eyebrow raised. _As if you’re one to talk_ , he seems to be saying. “You’re working in a pharmaceutical company, Kuroo.”

Kuroo shakes his head “It’s just funny, isn’t it? That he’d show up like this, right now.”

Kenma doesn’t answer for a while and Kuroo stands up to get a glass of water. The music drones on in the background, a constant lull that comforts him every time he feels antsy. He hasn’t met Bokuto since that day—it’s been three weeks now—and he knows he had promised to show up for the therapy sessions but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Not when it’s someone who he’s already friends with.

When he comes back to the room with a glass of water in hand, Kenma has paused the game and is already looking at him. Kuroo frowns.

“What is it?”

“You haven’t met with him again?” he asks, nose scrunched in distaste.

“I don’t see why I have to,” he says, feigning nonchalance. “I know where he lives now so I could go and meet him any day. We’re both busy people, you know.”

Kenma laughs a little at that and Kuroo gets a happy sort of feeling at seeing him so amused even if it’s at his expense. “You have work today, too.”

“I just wanted to talk to you, is that so bad?” he shrugs, grinning.

“I’m sure Bokuto would like to meet you. He liked you a lot,”

Kuroo looks away, ignoring the flush of warmth on his face. “That was ages ago.”

Kenma doesn’t look like he believes him as he un-pauses the game and begins playing again. Kuroo sighs in relief and leans back on the cushions, glad that he’s out of the curious scrutiny of his friend’s catlike eyes. When some time passes and Kuroo is convinced that nothing more will come out of the conversation, he pulls out his backpack and begins working on some of the paperwork still pending from a few days ago. Pen in hand, he goes over the text and makes corrections and notes as he goes, letting the pace drag him into a comfortable state of mind. Kenma continues to play next to him and Kuroo wonders how he ever gets his work done on time when he’s mostly just seen him playing.

By the time he’s done, his back is protesting in pain and his hands are stiff from writing so much. He gets up from the couch and groans, stretching his body as he does. Kenma looks away from the screen and the flashing pink lights from the screen cast a gentle shade on his face and Kuroo realizes it’s already quite late.

“I should get going,” he yawns “Have you had anything to eat?”

Kenma nods, pointing to the pack of half eaten onigiri next to him. “You didn’t answer when I offered you some.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll just grab something from the _konbini_ on my way back.”

“Shouyou gave me a few cookbooks the other day,” Kenma says suggestively, looking away as he does.

Kuroo laughs, “It’s too much of a bother to cook for myself,” he says “I do know a few recipes.”

He’s met with a hum in reply and Kuroo decides that’s that. He packs up his things and stuffs them in his bag, gives Kenma a tight hug and turns to leave.

“Kuroo?” Kenma calls out right when he’s at the door, one foot in and one foot out.

“Yeah?”

“We’re not in college anymore, you know,” he says, hands fiddling with the controller “It’s fine to think about your own feelings.”

Kuroo thinks about them—a few moments where everything feels strangely foreign and too beautiful to bear. A running track and a cold, winter’s night. His heart bursting with words that wanted to jump out of his throat before he swallowed them. The fear that came with it and stopped him anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

\---

Kuroo knows it’s just his luck that the second time he meets Bokuto, it’s on the train station on his way to work.  He’s standing near the benches, eyes on his wristwatch as the train he’s waiting for stops in front of him. He picks up his briefcase and is about to head inside when a hand latches onto his from behind, stopping him in his tracks. The train whistles loudly and it’s a sign for him to get moving but he stays motionless, staring at the man in front of him.

“Oi, I’m going to miss my train,” he says, a little irked that Bokuto has found him at the worst of times. It’s seven in the morning and his eyes are still a little puffy from having woken up exactly ten minutes before the train was about to leave.

Bokuto’s chest is heaving and Kuroo wonders why that would be. “I saw you and I couldn’t help myself,” he says, panting just the slightest “You haven’t come to the clinic.”

“I don’t think I can,” he’s averting his eyes now. The train whistles again and Kuroo isn’t sure whether this is the right time to start feeling reckless again “The train’s really going to leave, you know.”

Bokuto’s hand is still on his wrist. “I know,” he says, and then, grinning “Let’s talk inside, then.”

“Huh?” Kuroo only has time to squint before Bokuto is pulling him away from the benches and towards the train. The doors are just about to close and Bokuto shoves his foot between them so that they stop.

“I told you to stop doing that, you asshole,” Kuroo huffs, a little glad that he didn’t have to catch the next train and be late for work. His boss was only so kind. “Do you ever learn?”

Bokuto takes a moment to comb his hair back, setting them up like he always did so that they stood up and made him look bigger. He lets go of Kuroo’s wrist and it’s only then that he realizes how tightly he’d been holding onto him. He doesn’t dare look down to see the flush of red on the skin there, knowing it would only make him feel things he isn’t supposed to be feeling anymore.

“Isn’t the sense of adventure fun anyway?” Bokuto asks, grinning “If you think you’re going to miss the train, you just run faster to get in. Where’s the joy in routine?”

Kuroo hates that he agrees with what he’s trying to imply. “Where’s the fun in getting yelled at by your boss?” he asks instead “Unlike you, I don’t have a clinic of my own to run.”

Bokuto frowns, confused. “But the clinic isn’t mine? My uncle runs the place.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, unsure of what else to come up with “The one who used to treat us to drinks sometimes?”

Bokuto’s grinning now. “That’s the one. We still do that sometimes but it’s kinda boring with just two people.”

“Miss having me around?” he laughs, taking a look at the empty seats and grabbing a spot near the window. Bokuto sits down next to him, not bothering to leave any space between them, legs touching and arms squeezed next to each other. Kuroo doesn’t bother telling him that it looks a tad bit odd when two grown men sit like that in a train that’s nearly empty.

“Of course I do,” Bokuto says softly “I’m glad I found you today.”

“I—” he pauses, takes a deep breath “I’m sorry I haven’t visited at the clinic.”

“It’s a little weird getting a consultation from someone you already know, right?”

 _More than you can imagine_ , he thinks.

“I guess. It’s just—we’ve known each other for so long, I just don’t feel like it’d be a great idea to—” he gestures vaguely with his hands, unable to fully put it into words.

“That’s fine! As long as you’re feeling alright, I guess,” Bokuto says, hand on his arm again. “You _are_ feeling okay, though, aren’t you?”

“Yeah yeah I’m alright,” he manages, “It’s really embarrassing when you’re talking to me like that, Bokuto.”

“Embarrassing?” Bokuto nearly screeches and Kuroo has to gesture with his hand to make him lower his voice “I just want to look after you, is that so bad?”

Kuroo doesn’t answer his words, thankful that he can tell the train is just about to come to a stop. Sure enough, as he makes to open his mouth and speak, the mechanical voice from the speakers announces their arrival at Minato Ward. Bokuto looks a little disappointed as Kuroo makes to pick up his bag from the floor, and he tries hard not to show that he’d caught the look. He smiles, a little too politely and gestures towards the door.

“Well, this is where I get off,” he says, hefting the bag across his shoulder.

Bokuto is slow to nod, an unreadable expression on his face that Kuroo tries not to think too much about. It was a small sting to his pride to see Bokuto make faces that he wasn’t familiar with—he didn’t like that they didn’t know each other like the back of their hands anymore but he supposes that’s exactly how Bokuto feels too.

“Alright then, see you around?” Bokuto sighs before extending a hand to shake.

Kuroo ignores it and pulls him into a quick hug instead, feeling his heart do a little foxtrot when Bokuto returns it with more force than he’s used to. They let go far too quickly for Kuroo to be satisfied but he grins at him once and jumps out of the train before he can look back at Bokuto’s face and see the expression he’s making.

\---

Kuroo likes to think that he’s tried to put some distance between him and Bokuto, but that’s far from the truth. Ever since they’d met on the morning train, Bokuto has made it a habit to come by every few days at the same place. They get in on the same train and Kuroo makes small talk while his eyes drift to the scenery outside, silently praying for the stop to come just a few seconds earlier. Kuroo gets off when he reaches his stop and waves goodbye to Bokuto. He still hasn’t asked him where he goes at this time of the morning, and he’s not sure he wants to ask.

Kuroo also likes to tell himself he doesn’t know _why_ he wants to avoid Bokuto but that’s a lie that he finds harder and harder to tell himself each morning he sees Bokuto and a smile automatically finds its way on his lips. _It’s fine_ , he tells himself at times like this—Bokuto’s legs pressed against his on the nearly empty train and his heart thrumming with happiness—he’s just a good friend that I’ve missed talking to.

  _It’s fine!_ He tells himself again as he walks back home with him, plastic bag full of beer cans held tightly in his hand. Bokuto’s shoulder lightly touches his every few steps and Kuroo tries to ignore the tingle he feels each time it happens. The apartment complex is in sight now and Kuroo thinks he truly is gone now, no chance to run away and make an excuse so they wouldn’t have to spend more time together.

“Can you tell that I’m excited?” Bokuto asks in a voice loud enough to tell Kuroo that he’s excited, regardless. “I’ve always wanted to know what your apartment looks like.”

Kuroo just shakes his head, a smile on his lips. “Just don’t get your hopes up too much,” he says “It’s just a regular apartment.”

“Well I’ve only ever lived at my uncle’s so I can’t really say what a regular apartment looks like,” Bokuto looks thoughtful “Even Akaashi lives with his sister in a small little house so it’s not _really_ the same, you know?”

Kuroo shrugs and lets the conversation drop. He takes a step into the street at the far end of the complex they’d been walking in, and motions for Bokuto to follow. Past the houses and the lines of clothes hanging above them—trash littered in between and the stench of it hard to ignore— Kuroo points to the apartments and Bokuto lets out a small whoop of excitement. It’s a boring old thing and Kuroo has seen it enough times to start ignoring the cracked blue and white paint and the graffiti inside the corridors. Bokuto eyes it all with an earnest look of barely contained joy, wide eyes and mouth just slightly open. Kuroo thinks that of all the things that have yet to change, it would be this, and the thought is one that brings him some level of comfort in the midst of all his anxiety.

The elevator they stand in is tiny, barely designed to fit in two grown men with broad shoulders and lithe frames. Kuroo winces when the hunkering box of metal begins to move up and the lights flicker on, signaling the start of enka music from the 50s. Of all the days that the management had decided to fix the music on the thing, it had to be today. Kuroo tries to hide his flush on his cheek by stubbornly looking away but Bokuto is already grinning, laughter held in his throat.

“Enka? I can’t believe they still have elevators with music,” Bokuto whistled loudly, eyes staring at the flickering lights above him. His feet begin tapping along to the rhythm of the song and Kuroo can’t help but join in even if all of it is a little embarrassing.

“Well, it makes for a fun ride, doesn’t it?” Kuroo says and dares to cast a glance towards Bokuto. Their eyes meet at that very moment, Bokuto looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and something catches in Kuroo’s throat.

He looks away immediately and coughs.

“Yeah—” Bokuto says abruptly and his feet are no longer tapping along to the music “Yeah.”

It’s only with a sigh of relief that both of them get out of the elevator once it jolts to a stop. Kuroo pushes the grilled doors apart and gets out, not waiting for Bokuto to follow after him. He takes one look at his door and feels strangely put off by the idea. He’s still holding the plastic bag and he can see the few drops of perspiration on top of the white surface.

“Do you want to drink first?” he asks tentatively, standing motionless in the middle of the corridor. “We could go to the rooftop since that’s technically what I have instead of a terrace.”

Bokuto’s grinning again and Kuroo feels some form of relief at that.

“Why not?” he says and begins to follow Kuroo as he climbs up the metal footholds on the wall to their right.

Kuroo thinks absentmindedly that it’s been a long, _long_ time since he last stepped foot in this place with another person. The pile of used cans in the corner is a reminder of that and he tries not to look at it as he stands near the cemented edge.

Bokuto whoops once as he circles the rooftop, peering from one end of the edge and then the other. Kuroo bites back a smile because he knows Bokuto is impressed. He had been too, when he’d first climbed up here on a whim and seen all the city lights shine under him, humming and blinking with a kind of vibrating radiance that was just incredibly _Tokyo_ in all manners.  

“You didn’t tell me you could see the city from up here!” Bokuto is loud as he joins Kuroo and stands near the ledge.

Kuroo pops open a can and hands it to Bokuto before getting one for himself.

“I find that I don’t quite enjoy bragging about rooftops,” he says simply and opens his can, raising it to join with Bokuto’s just once before drinking.

He downs half the thing in one go and Bokuto does the same. They both sigh blissfully at the same time and the grins that find their way to their lips distinctly remind Kuroo of all the times they sat and drank together just like this back when drinking was such a new concept and made them feel adult like and reckless.

Kuroo squeezes the empty can between the sole of his boots and kicks it into the pile behind them. Bokuto just tosses his and a few drops end up landing on Kuroo’s hand. He clicks his tongue and opens another, walking around the place as he does. The shopping bag lies between Bokuto’s feet and he ignores it, eyes honing in on the mountain of cans that he’d made with the help of another, long forgotten person. Bokuto catches him staring at it, and shakes his head.

 “What’s the deal with the pile?” he asks, laughing as he takes small sips of the beer “Don’t tell me you drank all these by yourself?”

Kuroo hears the soft tinges of laughter ring in his ears.  “Nah, I used to drink them with a—” he swallows, throws the can into the pile and kicks it. He kicks it once more and the stack of cans slowly falls apart, coming down with the ring of metal and the imaginary laughter dies down “Just a friend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Bokuto asks in an odd voice.

Kuroo shrugs, “You could say that,” he says and kicks it again, harder “Ah fuck it, I don’t really care about it anymore, alright?” He knows it sounds like a big fat lie.

“You still have it right there,” Bokuto’s voice has a teasing edge to it and Kuroo feels like a child, so transparent.  He groans in reply and drinks just a bit more, feeling the cold liquid light up like fire in his throat.

The pile is slowly falling apart and Kuroo wonders why he hadn’t done this before. “It’s all for the sentimental value. But you know what? I don’t really care anymore,” as he speaks, Kuroo picks up a few cans and hurls them down the roof “I don’t give a shit!”

“Whoa—Kuroo are you sure?” Bokuto asks, even as he hands him a few more cans. There’s a smile on his lips that Kuroo has seen more than enough, before. Full of the urge for an adventure, even if it’s about as grand as throwing cans off the roof of Kuroo’s shitty apartment. “The neighbors are gonna eat you up for this.”

“They won’t know it’s me,” Kuroo grins back as he puts a few in Bokuto’s hands too and motions for him to throw. “For all we know, it could be anyone.”

Bokuto throws the cans and giggles as the two of them lean off the edge of the barrier and look down. Some of the cans spray the last remnants of drink that never reached their lips, and they tumble down through the roof, falling with a clang as they touch the pavement. Kuroo throws a few more and nudges Bokuto to follow. They both look each other and giggle and suddenly, Kuroo feels like a child again, feeling the euphoria of getting away with things that should get them grounded, but he can’t bring himself to care. Bokuto seems like he’s having just as much fun as he grins madly, and that makes everything so much easier.

Tears pool in Kuroo’s eyes and he can’t be sure if they’re from the laughter or something else entirely. All he knows is that he’s never felt freer in his life and the sight of the pile of cans growing smaller and smaller loosens the burden in his chest all the more. Throw away garbage and feel like a new man, he thinks idly as the two of them fall to floor in a heap, arms clutching each other and laughter still caught in their throats.

Kuroo looks up at the sky—his head resting on Bokuto’s shoulder and his arms around his waist— and notices that the moon is up in the sky, lopsided and just a tad bit ugly. Kuroo can’t help but think how beautiful it looks and how it just seems so _right_ that it would look like this today. He lets out a sigh, like the balance of tides in his life has been restored and Kuroo feels like he can breathe again.

Kuroo wonders, for a moment why it is that Bokuto makes everything feel like so much _more_ than it is and it’s just as he thinks this that he comes to the sudden and brief realization that even after everything, it’s all the same. Like a piece of gum stuck at the end of his heel, the feelings he’d been ignoring had always been there, buried under a layer of so many others. Bokuto’s still laughing a little, chest rising and falling along with the motions, and Kuroo stares at him, hopelessly enamored.

“You really liked him, huh?” Bokuto asks after a while, voice a little dreamy.

“Huh?” and for a second, Kuroo can’t remember who he’s talking about.

Kuroo feels the gentle traces of Bokuto’s fingers on his back, on the small of it and in the crook of his spine. “That guy you dated.” He says.

“Uh—yeah I guess,” he coughs, realizing that the feelings are nothing compared to what he feels right now “I guess I did like him.”

“Ah,” Bokuto smiles “That must have been nice.”

“It was.” He says softly and closes his eyes as Bokuto’s fingers wind through his hair. Kuroo feels heady with the feeling of blunt fingernails digging into his scalp and he wonders if he’s just a little drunk and imagining all of this. “We used to come out here all the time. Drank and laughed and did everything together.”

He doesn’t know why he’s telling him this but he feels like he’s overflowing with the emotions. Instead of feeling bitter, all he feels now is a sense of happiness of having experienced all of it. And for getting the chance to start something new too, perhaps.

“Then it was worth it, wasn’t it?” Bokuto asks, and he looks a little sad. He pulls him closer and Kuroo bites the urge to bury his face in his neck and drink in the very scent of him “Even if it wasn’t meant to last.”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He takes a sip of beer just because it helps him think less. “I liked him a lot but it didn’t hurt when we stopped. Not in the usual sense.”

“But you’re still happy, right?”

Kuroo can’t help it. He laughs. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” he asks “There’s only so much of myself I can give to person without feeling like I’m giving away too much. I guess I’m glad it ended before I got in too deep.”

Bokuto gives him a weird look when he says this and the movement of his hands stops. “Are you scared of giving too much of yourself to someone?”

“I already gave away too much just talking to you,” Kuroo laughs again, a little hysterically “Over sharing is a vice I really need to get some control over.”

“Kuroo, hey hey,” Bokuto says, nudging his arm slightly “Let’s talk about this, okay?”

“Nah.”

“Kuroo.” Bokuto nudges him again, an edge of warning in his voice that just makes Kuroo want to laugh.

“Bokuto” he grins and leans towards him “The moon looks beautiful today, doesn’t it?”

“You’re changing the subject again!”

Kuroo sighs and lets his head rest on Bokuto’s shoulder, hoping he’ll push him away. He doesn’t.

“It looked a lot like this once upon a time,” he says, a little nonsensically.

“The moon always looks the same. You’re just babbling now, aren’t you?” Bokuto pulls him back to look him square in the eye “ _Oi_ , stop changing the subject!”

At this, Kuroo just shakes his head and reaches out to hold Bokuto’s hand. Kuroo feels like he’s talking too much but he can’t stop—his heart feels like it’s full to the brim and ready to burst. “I’m not changing the subject.” He whispers.

“You sure?” Bokuto raises an eyebrow, letting their hands stay connected like that. “The moon doesn’t have a lot to do with giving yourself to someone. Are you even listening?”

“I was going to do it, you know,” Kuroo sighs as he looks at the sky. He suddenly wants to cry.

Whenever the moon looks like this all he wants to do is sigh and sigh until all his sadness leaves but right now just looking at it makes him feel like the past is coming back to him and he feels regret gnaw at his chest with a beak that spears his flesh, slowly, painfully.

“It was the only time I thought of just taking the fall and not giving a damn.” He says, whispering it into the space between Bokuto’s neck and shoulder, mouth hovering just above his warm skin.

“Why didn’t you do it then?” Bokuto asks and Kuroo wonders if he knows.

“I was scared, maybe?”

“Of what?” Bokuto sighs, and it’s the oddest feeling in the world to see someone as tireless as Bokuto seem just a little worn out.

“Hey, Bokuto,” he says, wondering why it all comes down to this, in the end.

“Yeah?”

“If someone gave you a piece of their heart, what would you do with it?”

“I—” Bokuto says and stops. Realization dawns slowly. “I think I would want to treat it tenderly.”

“Ah there it is!” Kuroo laughs, heart feeling like it’s being stabbed all over again. He leans over just the slightest so that their eyes meet. He doesn’t think of the barest centimeters separating the two of them “You said the same thing back then.”

“Isn’t that only natural?”

“I suppose it is,” he says, and the urge to cry is back again and he slowly curses himself for drinking so much “Hey, Bokuto”

“What is it, Kuroo?” Bokuto asks, softer this time.

“I liked you a lot, you know,” he says, hating himself the moment his tears spill forth “Enough to give you everything. All of me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything back then…?” Bokuto asks, voice just a bit strained.

“Why do you think?” Kuroo whispers, unable to look away even when Bokuto’s fingers come slowly to wipe at his cheeks.

He doesn’t close his eyes when Bokuto leans closer, face unreadable and just a little sad. Kuroo wants to ask him why he looks like that but all he can think of is the gentlest heat that presses against his lips and envelops him, making him lose all train of thought. His mouth is still open and he sighs against Bokuto’s lips, eyes looking up toward the moon. Kuroo can’t think of much more than that and he feels himself fall, fall, fall until everything is a haze of messy feelings and then— darkness.

Kuroo can only think of the moon and how it doesn’t seem to be mocking him, for once.

\---

_A good month before finals week of his last semester in university, Kuroo was just about ready to explode. He had a feeling if he didn’t get out of the library soon, his brain would melt and form a puddle next to his feet. He pitied the person who would have to come and wipe it off the floor. Kuroo had figured that if he went and started early enough, he would be able to get some work done but instead, all he felt was a growing sense of aimlessness and even more frustration at the fact that the library was never, ever empty. Even at 5 in the morning._

_Just as he was about to get up and maybe get a cup of tea for his headache, he felt a hand tap over his shoulder and he didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. In the dimly lit library, he could easily, easily tell that Bokuto was grinning at him, all teeth and eyes like half moons. He was waving a pocari sweat in his direction and Kuroo rolled his eyes because of course Bokuto Koutarou would choose to get him a drink like this even on a winter’s night as chilly as this. He still took the drink anyway and motioned for him to leave since he’d be out soon too._

_By the time he was done packing and stuffing his books inside his ragged backpack, Bokuto was staring forlornly at the floor outside the entrance. He’d acquired a stick from somewhere and had busied himself with drawing what Kuroo made out to be rather badly done caricatures of himself. Some of them were smiling, most of them seemed to be crying._

_“Took you long enough,” he said, not bothering to look at Kuroo as he came to stand next to him, hands reaching out to pry the stick away from his fingers “Is studying really more important to you than me?”_

_Kuroo tried to pretend that the way his heart jumpstarted when their eyes met was simply because he hadn’t eaten in hours. “I’m here, aren’t I? If that doesn’t show you my love, then I don’t know what does.”_

_Bokuto grinned good naturedly, not reading into it at all as he got up and put an arm around his shoulder. Kuroo hoped that he would have for once but it was a lot cause, he knew._

_“Where to, then?” he asked, pulling the collar of his denim jacket closer to his neck. Bokuto wondered why he bothered wearing it when he knew he couldn’t stand the cold. Despite the fact that Bokuto was like a human radiator, emitting heat for the convenience of anyone around him, his own body could never actually stand the cold. Kuroo huddled closer to his side and hoped he’d be excused for wanting to be closer just because he could feign a reason, now._

_“Anywhere you want to go,” Kuroo said eventually, eyes focusing only on the foggy night and the few stars up in the sky. The campus was nearly empty and Kuroo knew he should be getting home by now but he couldn’t bring himself to care much when Bokuto was with him._

_Bokuto shrugged and pointed ahead, far towards the jogging tracks and the gym. Their usual recluse from studying and all things related to classes. Kuroo nodded quietly and followed Bokuto, letting the cold air wash over his face and enter—with a sting— in his nose. It felt strange to be walking with Bokuto, lately, and he wondered if his friend could tell, too. The distance between them was always minimal, shoulders touching and arms around each other. Kuroo distantly wished he could walk without touching him if it meant that the slow thrum of his heart would die down. It suddenly seemed too loud to his ears._

_He let out a groan and cracked his knuckles, feeling restless energy stream through his body._

_“Argh, I really can’t stand this,” he mumbled, and Bokuto relented his grip on him to give him a curious look._

_“Study too much?” Bokuto asked, amused._

_“I feel like I’m going to explode, Bokuto,” he wanted to yell and there was no one around to judge him for it so he did it anyway. Bokuto laughed when their eyes met, sparkling with a happiness that Kuroo couldn’t place. The feeling within his body that made him feel like he was on the verge of a_ phenomenal _collapse only increased when he looked at him._

_“Let’s go for a run, Kuroo!” Bokuto said “Let’s yell until our throats are sore!”_

_Kuroo didn’t really find much to protest about with his idea and as soon as Bokuto’s hands found Kuroo’s wrist, all thoughts of holding back had already left his mind. They both took off— white Adidas pounding on the pavement and the wind whistling in their ears. Kuroo could feel tears in his eyes from the rush of cold air and Bokuto’s hand was still on his, the grip tight enough to hurt but somehow warm and comforting nevertheless._

_He wasn’t sure when he started yelling, or when Bokuto did, because all he could hear was the swish of jackets and their loud, loud screams mixing together, blending into a burst of adrenaline and youthful vigor. Kuroo, for all his griping about getting old, only felt boundless energy as he ran, and for a few seconds, his heart clenched painfully between his ribs. Maybe it was from the running, maybe his body just couldn’t get used to it after so long spent indoors, but Kuroo guessed it was something else entirely._

_They ended up falling unceremoniously on a patch of grass in the middle of the ground, chests heaving and legs aching._

_“I feel—I feel like my heart’s going to explode, Bokuto,” Kuroo managed to say, hands holding tightly onto Bokuto’s shoulders. His head was resting on the broad expanse of his chest and Kuroo could hear the loud beat of his heart if he listened closely enough. He wished the moment would never die and he could just lie there, breathing in the warm and gentle smell of his friend._

_“That was fun,” Bokuto breathed out after a few moments and Kuroo felt, rather than heard the words. There was the edge of a laugh in his voice and for some odd reason Kuroo decided it was a good idea to lift his head and catch a glimpse of his face._

_Suddenly, Kuroo couldn’t really find himself able to speak, mouth feeling dry and unused. Bokuto was smiling, eyes raised skyward and Kuroo was struck with an impulse that he had never—in all his years in college, he’d swear—felt before. He looked at Bokuto’s mouth, half open as if in awe of the sight before him, and Kuroo wanted to steal his lips, feel the warmth of his mouth on his own and curl his fingers on the nape of his neck. Kuroo would tell you he’d never been one for romance, but in that moment, he only wished to call Bokuto his boyfriend and give himself to him._ All of him _._

_He turned to the side and let up, the strength of his feelings suddenly making him feel dizzy. He’d thought of it before, the fleeting feelings of a crush that didn’t really change much in the way he felt about his closest friend. He’d always assumed they would go away, and he’d spent most of this time trying not to really think about it, much less act on them._

_“Shit,” he said, turning to the side so that he didn’t have to look at him anymore. The moon looked like a lopsided blob, hovering unsurely in the sky and it was a testament to how truly_ gone _he was when he ended up thinking how beautiful it looked._

_“You okay?” Bokuto asked, shuffling closer again, hand resting on his back and beckoning him to look at him. Kuroo closed his eyes and took a few, deep breaths._

_“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, fake laughter in his voice “Just thinking about how we’ll be graduating soon.”_

_Bokuto was quiet for a few seconds, as if he’d only just thought of it, too. “Shit,” he said and Kuroo laughed._

_“I didn’t really think about it until now,” Bokuto said, voice low as if he was whispering it to the night “Do you think we’ll miss this place?”_

_“After the hell we’ve been through?” Kuroo said, wincing at the memories of years gone past “Nah.” He knew it was a lie, and so did Bokuto._

_“Hey, Kuroo, can I ask you something?” his hand had lifted from where it was on his back and Kuroo felt the loss of warmth like pinpricks on his skin. He wondered when the feeling would die down— he was tired of being so acutely aware of each, meaningless touch._

_“Go ahead,” he said, even though his heart was racing madly in his chest._

_“Have you been avoiding me lately?”_

_Kuroo waited a few breaths before answering. “I’ve just been busy with studies, that’s all.”_

_“Oi, since when did you start lying to me?” Bokuto’s hand was back on his shoulder pulling him back so that they could look each other. Kuroo tried to protest but it only took so much before he was facing Bokuto again, unable to_ really _face him. He hoped the flush on his cheeks wasn’t visible._

_“I’m not lying. It’s just—” he paused to take a few breaths. He wanted to tell him. He needed to tell him. “I’ve been thinking about some things.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Uh-uh,” Kuroo averted his gaze and the lopsided moon seemed to be scowling at him from the sky. Do it already, it said, rip off the band aid and pray that it’s healed already. It’s alright to think about your feelings, sometimes._

_“You know how much these four years mean to me, right?” his voice shook just a little as he spoke. “It’s the happiest I’ve ever been, Bokuto.”_

_“I know,” Bokuto said, smiling fondly “It’s the same for me.”_

_“I’m just sad it’s going to be over so soon. I’ll—” he took a deep breath “I’ll miss you a lot.”_

_“Hey, you’re saying that like we’ll never meet again, after this.”_

_“Ha ha, I guess that does sound a little dramatic when I put it like that,” Kuroo said, ignoring the thud of his heart. “But you know what I mean.”_

_“’Course I do!” Bokuto laughed and Kuroo closed his eyes, wishing to record that voice in his head for years to come. Even if they went their separate ways, at least he’d have this. “I still want you be the happiest person alive, you know?”_

_Kuroo nodded and looked at him, slowly reaching out a hand to place—slowly, so slowly—on his chest. “Hey, Bokuto?” he called out again and his voice was much smaller this time._

_“Yeah?”_

_“If someone gave you a piece of their heart,” he said, sighing out the words “What would you do with it?”_

_“I think—” Bokuto said, confused frown on his face “I think I would want to treat it tenderly.”_

_And Kuroo thought that this was the moment to say it, because if anyone deserved to hear those words, it was Bokuto. Sweet, gentle Bokuto who would make sure to love back anyone who cared for him. Kind, observant Bokuto who would always be there with a bottle of pocari sweat even on the coldest of winter days, a grin that showed his teeth and an aura that made Kuroo think of the sun._

_“I hope you find someone you really love, some day,” Kuroo said, and the words come out all wrong. “Promise me you’ll make them happy?”_

_Bokuto was quiet for a few seconds and Kuroo prayed—deep within his traitorous heart—that he’d catch the look in his eyes that begged him to notice. His heart was ready to jump out of his throat and he knew it was only so long before both of them could hear it between them and the silence that suddenly ran too thick._

_“You can count on me!” Bokuto said, grinning again and Kuroo pretended he could see a hint of sadness behind his eyes._

\---

Kuroo has a wonderful dream. He’s warm and comfortable and he can feel strong, gentle arms wrapped around his waist, keeping him trapped deliciously in bed. His chest rises and falls slowly, in tandem with someone else’s—someone he doesn’t mind having in bed with him, someone who smells like sunshine and wild, unbridled energy. He cracks open his eyes and regrets it instantly. He wishes his dream could have lasted longer and that the warmth wouldn’t have faded.

The warmth doesn’t _entirely_ leave but Kuroo becomes acutely aware of the persistent throbbing in his head and the uncomfortable heat emanating from his bed. It takes him a few more seconds to realize that there actually is a person sleeping beside him, arms wrapped tight around him. Another few moments later, Kuroo is jerking away, trying to pry loose the hold of a person he distinctly identifies as Bokuto.

He tries not to yelp, but it leaves his mouth anyway and Bokuto cracks his eyes open at the sight, squinting under the sudden brightness. Even in his panic, Kuroo takes a moment to admire just how attractive Bokuto looks like this, hair in disarray and mouth half open. Maybe, Kuroo realizes, that he’s a _little bit_ smitten and it just doesn’t help the situation at all because he suddenly feels self conscious and confused.

“Kuroo?” Bokuto asks, and his voice is still thick with sleep. Kuroo’s heart does a little dance at the thought of how many times he’d imagined waking up to a sight like this when he had once liked him. “What—where are we?”

Kuroo only then realizes that he doesn’t even know how he’d gotten into bed and with Bokuto to boot. He casts a quick glance around the room, confirms that it’s his own and tries for a weak smile.

“It’s my room,” he says, hands fiddling with the sheets, “I’m not sure how we got here though. Weren’t we drinking?”

At this, Bokuto’s eyes clear a little and he jolts up in bed. Kuroo’s eyes drift to the way the neck of his T-shirt seems to be slipping past his shoulder and immediately hates himself for it.

“Right! We were drinking and you passed out!” he exclaims, hands clapping together “I didn’t know where your room was but I figured it was somewhere on the top floor. I wasn’t sure if you kept plants outside but there were cats all over them so figured it was yours!” he’s laughing as he says it.

Kuroo flushes, because he doesn’t remember much of what happened the night before. Just that they had been talking and things had suddenly gotten far too intimate far too soon. He thinks he remembers a warm hand on the small of his back, the gentle pressure of lips on his mouth. He jerks back even further in the bed, nearly falling off it until Bokuto’s hand shoots out to grab him, keeping him half hanging on the bed. He coughs, hoping Bokuto lets go but when he doesn’t, Kuroo allows himself to be pulled back.

“I—” he fumbles, hands scratching the back of his neck, nervous all of a sudden “Did we kiss?”

Bokuto is quiet for a moment before he nods. “We did.”

“Oh,” Kuroo looks down, steels himself and looks at him “Did you mind?”

“Of course not! Should I?” there’s none of the anger or resentment that Kuroo had imagined on his face. It relieves him a little but he still doesn’t feel entirely at ease.

Kuroo glances at him and Bokuto flushes, looks away for a few seconds before looking back and Kuroo curses the fact that he can’t quite bring himself to meet his eye. His head hurts and he feels like he’s floating, unsure if all of this is really happening.

“I don’t think so?” Kuroo says, unsure of what else to say.

“Then it’s fine, right?” Bokuto’s grinning, hands landing easily on Kuroo’s shoulders as he pats him “You said you liked me, too. I don’t think you’d lie about that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Kuroo wishes he could bite his tongue and die right now but the truth is out and there isn’t much point in hiding it. Salvage the situation, his mind tells him. “But it’s all in the past, you know?”

Bokuto nods slowly. “Not anymore?”

“I had a boyfriend until a few months ago. Do you really think I’ve been pining after you all this time?” he laughs as he says it but he can’t help but think of how much of a lie it seems. Even though it’s the truth. He’d managed to forget about Bokuto and his white hair and sunshine smile. “I…I think I need more time.”

“Of course, of course!” Bokuto grins and then he’s moving away, out of Kuroo’s space and off the bed entirely.  He brings his hands together and Kuroo winces at the noise. “More importantly! Do you think you need painkillers? You drank a lot.”

Kuroo thinks about it and he isn’t sure if he does need them but he nods anyway, welcoming the distraction.

“They’re in the drawer over there,” he points to the beat up dresser drawers at the end of the room “Right at the top.”

Bokuto springs up and fumbles with the drawer, movements a little unsure as he looks for the pills. It’s an odd sight, Kuroo thinks, but not one that he hasn’t already seen before.

“This kinda feels like the old days, doesn’t it?” Kuroo says, wanting to break the silence between them “How come you never get hangovers?”

Bokuto’s still rummaging through the drawer as he answers. “Eh? I don’t know! Maybe it’s my metabolism or something?” he says “Makes you jealous, huh?”

“Just a little,” he sing songs, “But hey I’m not the one who starts crying when I get drunk so who’s the real winner here?”

Bokuto pouts, turning around once he’s found the bottle of painkillers “Unfair! That only happened twice.”

“Nah I’m sure it was more than that,” he extends a hand to take the bottle from him. Bokuto sits back down on the bed, mattress dipping slightly under his bed. Kuroo notices how there’s absolutely no distance between the two of them and how he really doesn’t mind that, at all.

“In any case!” Bokuto grins, a devilish little smile “I’m not the only one, if that’s what you’re bragging about.”

“Eh?” he pauses, hand reaching out to grab the water bottle on his side table.

“You cried too! You were crying buckets yesterday and I didn’t know what to do so I dragged your sorry ass back here, you know!”

“You’re kidding me,” Kuroo wants to choke on the water he’s drinking. “No way, no way.”

Bokuto’s laughing now, loud as he leans in closer and pokes Kuroo’s stomach and then his chest. “You totally did! I’m not even exaggerating.”

Kuroo flushes, trying to ignore the way Bokuto is looking at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever been the subject of such a gentle smile before and he closes his eyes. “There’s nothing for me to cry about, though?

“No, there isn’t,” Kuroo can feel Bokuto smiling even when he doesn’t look at him “Not when the great Bokuto is with you!”

Kuroo isn’t sure if it’s because of his headache or the fact that Bokuto’s fingers are running slowly through Kuroo’s hair that he feels himself floating, on the verge of passing out again. He smiles at Bokuto, unsure of where they stand right now but wanting to let things stay like this anyway.

“Hey, hey,” he grins, smacking Bokuto’s hand away and grinning a little when Bokuto catches his hands and loops their fingers together. “Aren’t you getting a really big head?”

Bokuto grins again and ruffles Kuroo’s hair. Kuroo isn’t sure why, but he says thanks—murmuring it so lightly that he barely feels the words leave his mouth. He can’t be sure if Bokuto hears him.

\---

Kuroo ends up not end up going to work that day. It’s early in the morning and the shops are still closed—Bokuto has long since gone back home. He sighs because head hurts and it’s impossible to think or walk straight when it feels like a hammer is steadily working its way to tearing his insides apart. He keeps on walking, slow clumsy steps through the roads and he’s a little glad that today is not a very sunny day. The light would have only made things worse.

He finds himself in a park, empty right now save for the one homeless man who always sleeps on the bench, body covered in a rag that barely reaches his toes. Kuroo thinks he should get him a new sheet, if nothing else, but empty handed as he is, he just walks right past him and finds the swing to sit on. His legs protest and he knows he can’t really ride it anymore but he still tries. Body swaying back and forth on the cheap, wooden plank, he looks up at the sky and wonders what he’s doing with his life.

It isn’t the first thing he’s thought about it, but it is the first time he’s thought of how incredibly lost he feels. Somewhere in the city, Bokuto must be wandering too, maybe, hands stuffed in the pockets of his loose jeans. Maybe his head hurts too, from all the drinking they had done. And maybe when he thinks of Kuroo, he’ll find a part of his heart aching with longing as well.

Kuroo sighs and leans back, closes his eyes and wishes he could understand what he’s doing. He spots a bee bumble past him, and he isn’t sure why but the sight of the yellow little thing has him stifling a gasp and jerking back to stay out of its path. He doesn’t feel it, but his foot slips on the few pebbles underneath and his entire world seems to careen and tilt until he can’t tell up from down. The sky expands like a bubble for the briefest span and he’s still dazedly chasing after the lost sight when the back of his head hits the earth.

He groans, more at the realization that his headache is only going to get worse, than from the actual pain itself. Kuroo can’t bring himself to get up, and he lies on the dusty ground, legs half up in the air and back pressed to the sand, finding everything a little too laughable. Here he is, a grown man in his twenties, failing to properly sit on a swing as he pines after his high school crush. It’s not the strangest story one could tell, but it’s an embarrassing one nevertheless and Kuroo can’t help but laugh even as his eyes fill with tears. They’re from the pain, he’ll tell the homeless man later on, but of course Kuroo is honest enough with himself to admit that a few of them are from the pain that has nothing to do with drinking alcoholic beer at the crack of dawn. He should be happy, but he can’t help but feel as if he’s still a little bit like a coward.

\---

 Kuroo expects things to change after that day, but for the most part everything is the same. They still meet up sometimes on the morning train and on the weekends when neither of them has anything better to do than be in each other’s company. And really, that is the best manner to spend time, Kuroo sometimes thinks, a little in disbelief at how easily both of them have drifted back into each other’s lives.

Sometimes, Kuroo finds himself staring at Bokuto, a little in wonder at how happy he is just to be with him, and Bokuto will look back at him and smile. It’s a smile Kuroo thinks he hasn’t seen that much before—something warm and gentle in his eyes— and he finds himself unable to look at him straight, face burning hot. Sometimes, when he’s just sitting next to him, Bokuto’s hands will find their way into his and Kuroo takes it, never questioning what it means except for the happy thrum in his heart that tells him all is well. Everything is in place.

Still, there are times when things are not so easily left unquestioned. When others come into the equation and look at them, questions written all over their faces. Kuroo remembers seeing those same faces _back then_ too, but there really hadn’t been much to think about at the time. Now, even Kuroo begins to wonder what really is going on, and if he even wants a name to it.

“Bokuto likes you, doesn’t he?” Kenma asks one day, when Bokuto has left the diner and it’s just the two of them left, chopsticks scraping the last bits of noodles on their plates.

Kuroo flinches for a second before casting a furtive glance in the direction of the tables next to them. No one seems to be listening so he shrugs and puts his chopsticks down, attempting for a solemn expression that doesn’t quite make it to his face. He’s smiling a little.

“I guess he does,” he says casually.

“Has he told you that?”

He shakes his head.

 _And have you_? Kuroo expects him to asks, but he doesn’t. Kenma nods, satisfied with just this and he begins eating his noodles again. Kuroo feels a little cheated.

“Wait, aren’t you going to ask me if I’ve said it?”

“Knowing you, I’m sure you haven’t,” Kenma says, mouth still full “You had that funny little expression on your face.”

Kuroo frowns, hands instinctively going up to touch his forehead “What expression?”

Kenma shakes his head. “I can’t describe it. You just look different when you’re with Bokuto,” he says “Stop beating yourself up over it, Kuroo.”

“I’m not really worried about it, though? I’ll say it when it’s time.”

“Try convincing yourself of that,” Kenma’s smiling a little as he pats Kuroo’s arm—almost uncharacteristically affectionate “It’s fine to take things slow.”

“Things are definitely slow,” Kuroo says, a little bitterly “They’re almost entirely the same, actually.” Except for the times when they hold hands. And the one time they kissed when both of them were just a little bit too tipsy and uninhibited.

“Does that bother you?”

Kuroo is starting to think this conversation is getting far too derailed from the carefree leisure time he’d had in mind when he’d come here. Still, he shakes his head and drinks some water.

“I’m just trying to enjoy each step as we go along. No need to be dramatic, right?”

“Right.”

\---

“Kuroo!” Bokuto comes barging through the door one day, a shopping bag in hand “Let’s go on a date!”

Kuroo takes a few seconds to blink, hands paused over the remote control before he looks at him again “Where to?” he asks instead of ‘ _Really? A date for_ real _or what?_ ’

“So I was walking around town because I was so _tired_ from working all day, right? I don’t think I really knew where I was going but I ended up getting a bit lost!”

Kuroo nods patiently, motioning for him to go on.

“And well, the place was really pretty, flowers and all. I’m sure you would have liked it, but that’s not what I’m getting at.”

“I’m sure you aren’t.”

“I continued to walk ahead and there it was!” Bokuto gestured wildly with his hands, shopping bag swishing noisily as he did “A planetarium, Kuroo! A planetarium!”

“Really?”

Bokuto grins “I thought you’d like to go there so I got two tickets in advance!” he says “We’ve gotta go _right now_!”

Holy shit, Kuroo thinks in some corner of his mind that’s still convinced this life is too good to be true, he saw a planetarium and thought of _me_.

“Wow, isn’t that romantic,” he says instead, lips splitting into a grin.

“I know, right?” Bokuto runs up to him and grabs his hands “C’mon, Kuroo. The show starts in an hour and I managed to get directions so we wouldn’t get lost on the way!”

“Alright alright,” Kuroo says, letting himself be pulled up by him, “Let’s go.”

The weather is colder now, the burning brightness of the sky swapped with the mellower grays and blues of fall. The streets are dusted with red and orange, fallen leaves crunching under their feet as they stomp on them. Kuroo pushes Bokuto to the side when he spots a particularly enticing brown leaf, hoping to get to it before he can. Neither of them speaks about it but it’s turned into a game anyway, both of them hoping to get as many leaves as they can.

“Quit pushing me!” Bokuto huffs, still managing to get some leaves under his feet anyway “I’m going to fall.”

“That is a sight I’d like to see,” Kuroo says, giving him another nudge as he does. Bokuto pushes him again and both of them begin to laugh, taking in the cold air and the warmth of being with each other in stride.

Somehow, as they begin to walk again, their hands find their way back to each other, gravitating in each other’s orbit as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Kuroo feels his chest swell and he wishes he could tell Bokuto just how happy he is just by being with him, but he feels those words stuck in his throat, always there but never quite making it out of his mouth.

The streets are empty and Kuroo wonders a little skeptically if people don’t prefer the chill of fall even though it is the most beautiful one he’s ever seen. (He supposes it has a little bit to do with being so much in love, but he doesn’t want to admit it to himself just yet.) Instead, he takes the opportunity to touch shoulders with his companion, letting the contact stay as they head towards the planetarium that Kuroo didn’t know existed.

As they’re walking, Kuroo begins to see flowers sprouting from between cracks in the pavement, and Bokuto lets out an excited whoop as he points at them. They’re red and yellow, somehow mixing in with the leaves on the earth, and Kuroo squints as he looks at them.

“We’re close now!” Bokuto says, fingers tightening their hold on Kuroo’s “I just followed the flowers.”

“You kinda sound like a garden fairy when you talk like that.” Kuroo laughs, following Bokuto as he makes a sharp turn into an alley to their right, and then a few more until Kuroo can’t really tell where he’s going anymore.

Bokuto seems to be enjoying himself, by the way he occasionally whistles an odd melody that has Kuroo straining to figure out what song it is. Belatedly, he realizes by the rise and fall of the hum that it’s the same elevator music Kuroo hears on his way to his room, every day. Kuroo smacks his arm but that doesn’t stop Bokuto from continuing to whistle and hum anyway.

The planetarium makes itself known so suddenly that Kuroo thinks for a few seconds that it’s more of an apparition than an actual building, and judging by the pleased grins Bokuto is throwing his way, his reaction is entirely what he’d expected.

“Seems like it came straight out of a fairytale, eh?” he whispers in Kuroo’s ear. Kuroo shivers, feeling pinpricks of warmth on his neck and ears.

“No kidding,” the building is round, like a sphere half buried under the earth, leaving only part of its body to be seen. Most of what they can see is already laced with vines and patches of flora, and Kuroo has to blink twice and then a few more times just to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

He’s pulled back into movement by a gentle tug on his hand and a soft voice in his ear that says “Let’s go.”

The inside is much more normal and Kuroo feels a little relieved that he’s back in somewhat familiar territory, a few people heading into the hall at the far end of the building, and a few of them standing in line to get tickets for the show. Bokuto waves their passes to the man standing near the entrance, and both of them are ushered inside the darkness of the room. From there, it’s a few near accidental stumbles and elbows in the stomach later that they manage to find their seats smack in the middle of the hall, right under the apex of the dome.

Bokuto shakes excitedly in the seat next to Kuroo’s, and Kuroo is about to make a comment when the lights dim leaving them enveloped in darkness. Bokuto’s excited shaking gets even worse as the speakers above them blare to life and the polite voice of a woman begins to introduce them to the planetarium, the sky and the planets. Kuroo is only half paying attention to the cosmos swirling above them, voice going unheard as he turns his head to the side and looks at Bokuto.

He knows he should be paying attention, Bokuto spent money to get these tickets after all and it wouldn’t be very nice to just waste it in staring at his friend turned unsure lover when he could just as well do it any other time of the day. But still, he can’t bring himself to look away.

The dim lighting of space above them casts gentle shadows on Bokuto’s face and his eyes sparkling with joy as he gasps and coos at each dramatic turn of the planets and asteroids. Kuroo thinks the woman is talking about the sun now, and he wants to tell her that _hey_ , perhaps the sun can sometimes come to life in the bodies of people too. People like Bokuto Koutarou.

Kuroo isn’t even surprised when he feels the urge to cry again but it’s not nearly as sad as he would have thought it would be. He feels a little like an idiot for ever having avoided his friend when it’s at times like these that he feels like everything in life is right. Just as it should have been.

Bokuto must have noted Kuroo’s uncanny silence, because in the next moment, he’s turning to look at him, eyes a mixture of confusion and concern. He raises an eyebrow in question and Kuroo simply shakes his head, places his hand on top of Bokuto’s and leans into his warmth.

“Hey, Bokuto?” he calls out softly.

Bokuto turns away from the projections above them and looks right at him. “Hm?”

“Is this a date?”

Bokuto seems a little confused at first, before he breaks out into a grin. “Gee, Kuroo, we’re in a planetarium and we’re holding hands,” he gives a pointed look at their intertwined fingers “Of course it’s a date!”

“Oh,” Kuroo’s cheeks begin to prickle “Okay.”

Everything is quiet at that as the announcer continues to wax poetic about the miracle known as space and Kuroo leans back into his seat, sure that the show will continue as normal. Instead, Bokuto jumps a little in his seat, head swerving to look at Kuroo again. There’s a wild look of worry in his eyes.

“Wait,” he whisper yells “Is this _not_ a date?”

“I guess it is,” _of course_ it is “I just wanted to confirm, is all.”

“We’ve been doing all of this for a while now, how come this is so different?”

Kuroo looks away, moving his hand back just the slightest. “It’s just—I just want you to know what you’re getting into, that’s all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bokuto

“All of _this_ ,” Kuroo gestures vaguely between them “Don’t you think it’s a little too rushed?”

“I’ve never thought so. Haven’t we known each other for years?” Bokuto says, thoughtful “And you said you liked me.”

“That was in the past tense! I said _liked_! And what’s that got to do with anything?” Kuroo splutters, feeling a little like the conversation was again going in a direction far from planned “This is still pretty rushed.”

Realization dawns in Bokuto’s eyes and he quickly moves his hand back. Kuroo feels the loss of warmth that comes with it. “Oh. Do you want time to think about it, then?”

His hands itch to hold Bokuto’s between his, again. Relationship therapist Bokuto seemed like the type to mind boundaries far more than fellow classmate Bokuto ever had. “Not really,” he says, doing just that. He smiles when Bokuto’s cheeks flush red at the gesture “You haven’t even told me you like me, dumbass.”

“Neither have you,” Bokuto pouts.

“I did! Once. Isn’t that enough?”

“Nooope. Not at all!” Bokuto says, a little too loudly. Kuroo quickly turns to see if they’re disturbing anyone, but from what he can see, there aren’t that many people to begin with “Isn’t this a little anticlimactic? I want a confession, Kuroo.”

Despite himself and the situation at hand, Kuroo feels his sense of pride coming nagging at him. As much as he feels like a child, he just doesn’t want to be the first to give in, always wanting to one up him in some manner.

“You rascal,” he says, leaning forward and pointing his index finger straight in Bokuto’s chest. “Why does it have to be me?”

At this, Bokuto puffs out his chest. “Because I’ve liked you longer and my suffering does not equate to yours.”

Kuroo thinks he has something to smart to say but all he can manage is a weak whimper. His cheeks feel like they’re catching on fire and he has to shake his head twice just to convince himself that all of this is real. The stars shining above them might be as fake as the voice of the woman speaking overhead, but the look that that Bokuto’s giving him is definitely, definitely real.

“This—what…” Kuroo tries again, a little skeptical “Are you serious, right now?”

Bokuto frowns “I’ve liked you since college, how long does that make it huh?” he sighs, long suffering and full of frustration. Mixed in with just the slightest bit of hope that doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s been ages!”

“I—” Kuroo can feel the inside of his head melting into a swirl that could one day match the cosmos. For now, he coughs and tries his best to act composed “You confessed first, dumbass. I win.”

It takes a few seconds for the realization to hit home before Bokuto’s smacking his hand on his forehead. The echo resounds in the hall and Kuroo distantly wonders if they should maybe head out of the hall since the show seems to have been ignored for far too long.

“Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Bokuto mutters, face buried in his hands “But now you know how I feel, at least. Right?”

“Ah.” Kuroo scratches the back of his head “Yeah.”

 “This is a date then, right?”

“I guess so,” Kuroo says and smiles. “Yeah.”

Bokuto whoops, legs swishing up in his joy. Kuroo wants to do the same but he hides his excitement behind the curve of his smile. He’s sure Bokuto knows, anyway.

“I win” Bokuto sing songs, holding out their intertwined hands for the world to see.

“Wasn’t the winner the one who confesses late?”

“Oi, this is an indirect confession too, isn’t it?” Bokuto’s suddenly too close, body half leaning off the edge of his seat so that both their knees touch. His voice is soft and his eyes—they’re staring directly at Kuroo like he’s the only one in the world. Not the planets and not the stars, just a lanky young man in his twenties with a bed head that refuses to go away even with gel, sometimes.

“Maybe,” Kuroo relents, craning his head back and pulling Bokuto over with a tug at their hands.

It’s not much of a stretch from there to bringing their lips to meet. Kuroo feels the same warmth he remembers from behind the haze of cheap beer, but now, it’s so much more. Bokuto’s hands come up to cradle Kuroo’s face and press their lips closer, mouths opening just the slightest as they do. Kuroo wants to move too, but his hands stay where they are, holding onto Bokuto’s shirt and feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under his fingertips. Kuroo wants nothing more than to stay like this forever, and maybe, maybe touch him just a little more. His fingers itch to tug at his shirt and pull it off, open his mouth and drink in every sigh that escapes Bokuto’s lips. But for now, just this much is fine, and so they kiss, slow and gentle, almost like a first time with people who should always have been each other’s firsts, perhaps. Kuroo feels just the slightest pang of sadness when he thinks of the Kuroo from back then, sighing hopelessly over a crush that couldn’t possibly have worked out.

 _Hey_ , he wants to go back and tell him _,_ just wait a little bit longer, alright? Good things come and go, but he’ll be the best thing to happen to you. Just you wait.

“Just so you know I’ve liked you longer.” He says when they break apart, breaths mingling with each other’s, hot and cold, just like the fall. Kuroo feels a little like the leaves on the earth, blooming a happy shade of yellow that bursts into red.

Bokuto peers at him, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

“No way,” he whispers, scandalized.

Kuroo grins the catlike grin that has been creeping up on him for a while now “High school,” he says, and it would have been an otherwise embarrassing thing to say, had the person of his affections not been Bokuto. With him, everything seems fine, even the things better left unsaid.

“A year longer,” he smacks his chest lightly, feeling his voice tremble. “A whole year longer, you asshole.”

Bokuto groans and the sound just makes Kuroo laugh as he pulls him closer, cradling his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

Neither can I, Kuroo thinks, letting them stay like that. Neither can I.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh you made it to the end! To anyone who read through all this and enjoyed even a tiny smidge of it, thank you! <3


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